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Bede Dec 2018
Arthur's kingdom, bright, so clearly shines
Among the grassy knolls of Briton
The Round-Table knights patrol the land
That Ol' Winter has clearly bitten.

With poor peasants freezing in their shacks
Their love for Arthur keeps them smitten
They don't remember the last they saw
Of the Almighty King of Briton.

The Round-Table knights now carry guns
And your tales have all been rewritten.
Oh what must we do to summon back
Our old sleep-stricken king of Briton?

The world is different now, my Lord
And in new tales may you be written.
With sword in hand, Lord please striketh down
The ****** New-Rulers of Briton.
For Avalon, for Albion
Tony Luxton Oct 2017
I don't know when or
who bought it, old worn,
battered, richly patinated,
ill-fitting our modern room.

Addressed with reverence
dur to age and tradition,
setting for many meals,
seances and squeals.

I was the noble Arthur
for a time, with a kingdom
to protect, a faith to defend
and my comrades to command.
Arthur Vaso Oct 2017
Thieves in the night
Playing with copyright
Poisoned pens
Vultures in the den
In the Palace of hypocrites
Tea served at ten
If only the winds of the sea
And the rains of the sky
In a massive hurricane
Could sweep the Palace on by
Inspired by the book "The Palace" by Paul Erdman
nigh is rain
but dance this refrain
on a day as sad as today
still made it through her exposed
as Guinevere has a barometer of faith
while an ingenue we've traveled  flat as board
in a spring this year sourly won by fascination in death
a woman as superfluous with meteorology mostly cloudy
Paul Butters Jun 2017
Before the UK Election
Those Tory Trolls slagged off
The Labour Leader
Jeremy Corbyn
Unmercifully –
Dredging up his distant past,
Turning his heroic quest for Peace in Northern Ireland
Into an act of alleged “treason”
And much more.
They painted a grim grey scene.

But like King Arthur and his gallant knights,
Corbyn unsheathed his own Excalibur:
That mighty thing called “Hope”.
He offered us all a brighter future,
Except perhaps for the greedy rich,
To sweep through the enemy ranks
Upon his horse, “Momentum”.
Once more to the breach…

And as the opinion polls swing
More and more in his favour,
Victory for Labour
Is only a matter of time.

Paul Butters
The aftermath of the UK Election.
Arthur Vaso Jan 2017
Into the night I marched
Into deaths grip I fell

Musical notes running after me
Violins weeping afterwards

Stars fading into matter
Nothing matters without love

Lights shine over there
Can I reach or do I dare?

I can’t get out of this repressive chair
I can’t stand the people whom stare

My mind is all wrapped in shrouds
Hiding within the skies dark clouds

My smiles stolen by royalty golden
Now my tears flow as I weep

Is there any hope to keep?
Or am I doomed to deaths grip so deep

Gargoyles yelping for their fare
Me, dangling from the air

Aurore are you there?............
Tryston Kae Mar 2016
“I could have chosen anybody but I chose you…”

There were many to choose from. You were on the list, however. Your profound interest in whomever you met, be the person mean or not, sparked a sudden interest. You weren’t like the rest. The rest being, the other girls I could have chosen. They had their **** together, but they acted like they didn’t and not having your **** together seemed attractive, so they were in the list. You had your **** together. Why were you there? It were as if we were in a police station. Girls were lined up against the wall and I could see them from the other side of the mirror, they couldn’t see me however. You could, which was strange. Each time I would move or tilt my head you would follow. Your eyes knew where I was and when. You didn’t even react. You just stood there. Calm and aware. All the people next to me looked at me in shock as I pointed to you. “That’s her.” I have never failed to mention this to you.

“Help me get better // you pull me right out of the blue…”

Most people would have left. I wish you would have too. Maybe if you did this would have ended sooner. Your sappy flowers that you never failed to send, lay in the drawer in my new, grim room. I have kept the flowers in the dark, because it was like our love. A love that was in the dark and although the flowers look near dead, they contain everything that other flowers have. I should have placed them on top of the chest of drawers. They should be exposed, bare for everyone to see, not just for me. But no one appreciates dead flowers, the gesture is seen as disrespectful. I like them, though. They understand me. They are experiencing what I have experienced. The outside becomes grim and the inside slowly decays. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. I was a leap away from drowning in the river. I was a hug away from touching the sky. Thank you for being clingy.

“And daddy don’t like you, but daddy and I never speak…”

He didn’t like you, let’s be honest. You didn’t like him either. He resembled everything you hate and you never failed to express yourself. You were good with your words, if you read this there would be red ink all over the page, maybe that’s why he didn’t like you. You felt the need to correct people. You weren’t perfect. You felt that everyone needed to be perfect even if you weren’t. “The world should be left in the hands of perfect people, that’s why we need to go.” I laughed and I think we were the only two that understood that joke. You hate what he did to my mother and I because you experienced it too. Not with my dad, though. Although he hit her when he was drunk, I was born a coward and couldn’t defend her. That’s why I’m here. I chose this courageous girl and I’m a ****** coward. That’s why I’m here, because opposites attract. That’s why I’m here because I’m a quitter.

“Every night when I wake up // I need you to get back to sleep…”

At night, I would attempt it. I would think about it and reflect. That didn’t seem possible when you were around because you felt the need to protect me. You were as wrecked as I, if not more, yet you needed to make sure I didn’t leave. You needed me to be there because I made you feel sane, even if it were for a few minutes. If you had done as I asked, stayed asleep when I awoke, you would be here today. You would ******* be here. It’s my fault for choosing someone so damaged and aware. You would ******* be here.

“Smells like roses to me // two young lovers at sea // tastes so bitter so sweet // you’re my bang // together we’ll go // bang, bang, bang…”

Of course it smelt like roses. You loved the sappy love it represented. Yes, we were lovers. We were lovers, because I understood you, and you me and I ******* loved you. The sea would become our home. We would cover ourselves in sand to see how long we could last underneath. How long we could ******* breathe. And if the sea wasn’t our oyster, well, we would go bang, bang. Neither of us could jump in front of the gun, because neither of us wanted to be saved.
Sabbathius Sep 2014
So close and yet away from shores we tread
That mass of grey so thick, there lies as dead
A foggy veil which blocks the way and sight
A ghostly form that fills all hearts with fright

Forever there, it lingers ever still
From very far, you feel its icy chill
In either dead of night or sunny day
It leads all sailors bold enough, astray

Yet I have seen her crossing part of it
I'm almost sure that we will never meet
Towards a land unknown, into the fray
She sails alone and casts the mists away

Reveal what lies beyond the smoky shroud
What wonders hides that huge, so steadfast cloud
Just lift the smoke atop the river deep
Unveil the realm where silently you weep

Come sailing down and take me there to see
A land whose gates have one and only key
I long to witness what it truly hides
Behold with my own eyes where she resides


*A Shrouded Soul by João Massada is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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